


Take my body apart

by OhAine



Series: Memoirs of a Pathologist [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, But only a bit, D/s dynamic, Dirty Talk, Domme Molly - you gotta squint for that too, F/M, Fantasy, First Kiss, Is it really 'playing' doctor if one of them actually has a medical degree?, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Playing Doctor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Roleplay, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut, Sub Sherlock - if you squint, Vaginal Sex, a tiny bit angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhAine/pseuds/OhAine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you trust me?”</p>
<p>Curious, his head turned to look, but her face was unreadable. It made no difference; there could only ever be one truthful answer to that question.</p>
<p>“Yes,” gasping with need, “God, yes. Do whatever you want to me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Sherlock,” her tone darkly playful and dripping with sinful intent, “you really shouldn’t say such things. You have no idea of the filthy, disgusting things I want to do to you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take my body apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilsherlockian1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/gifts).



> When I first came to the Sherlolly family just six months ago there were three extraordinary women who welcomed me with open arms. Without realising I was doing it, this series has become a home for works I’ve gifted to these incredibly talented and wonderful writers.
> 
> This is the first of two gift fic’s for the lovely Lilly, and the handsome and talented Mr Lil. You get two Honey, the catch is you have to share them!
> 
> Lil, you are an amazing person, among the best and wisest I have ever known. I aspire to be as generous, loyal, trusting, open, caring, beautiful, kind, funny and talented as you are – all singular gifts by which you, my friend Lil, are distinguished. 
> 
> As always, I own nothing. Cumberbatch’s curls, the Divine Miss B, Mofftiss, and ACD own it all.
> 
> This one was never intended to be part of the series, but sometimes these things sorta just happen. Beta’d by the wonderful [MaybeItsJustMyType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItsJustMyType/works)

* * *

 

 

 

“You’re hovering Sherlock,” Molly’s eyes stayed fixed on the specimen she was examining, aware of the tall, lean dark shadow at the edge of her peripheral vision, he’d been there for just a few seconds but that was an eternity for someone with as much kinetic energy as Sherlock to stay still. “If you need the results of the Dickenson autopsy they’re on my desk. Help yourself.”

 

He cleared his throat and Molly heard his feet shifting, “Ah, no. Not the Dickenson case. I require your assistance with something else. Something of rather a more personal nature.”

 

“Oh?” she asked, her attention piqued, but doing her best to disguise it. With the experiment on the slide under her microscope no longer holding her attention, she glanced nonchalantly over her shoulder.  

 

Her mouth was unexpectedly dry at the sight of Sherlock in all his riotous beauty; the curve of his thighs, toned and muscular, visible beneath his long coat, the expanse of his chest arching with every breath, buttons straining and giving just the barest hint of the alabaster skin beneath. His throat flushed, the evening’s misty rain had given his ethereal, porcelain, skin a dewy quality, his usually pale eyes were dark, pupils blown black with just a halo of pale iridescent silver surrounding them, his hair dishevelled and wild from the winter wind outside. 

 

“A medical matter of some delicacy, in fact. I was hoping to avail of your expertise as a physician,” spots of pink dappled high on his sharp cheek bones, his gaze focused intently on the woman before him. Barely parted lips, soft and smooth as he brushed them with the tip of his tongue, speaking in a honeyed tone, dripping with suggestion, and a mischievous quirk to his lips that could be heard in his voice.

 

“An intimate medical matter?” The first signs of her arousal evident to the man who now watched her, her voice dropped involuntarily to a lower register, knowing what would come next; kindred spirits, they’d been playing these games together for a while, luxuriating in each other’s enthusiasm for the heady delights that indulging each other’s fantasies brought.

 

“Very,” Sherlock stepped into her space, and turning the stool she was perched on placed his hand between her thighs, pushing her skirt up and spreading her legs so that he could stand between them; his outer thighs rested against the inside of hers; his breath hot and damp on her skin as he dipped his head to whisper, silken lips grazing the delicate shell of her ear, “I’m having difficulties with erections.”

 

“Is that so?” Molly breathed, her head turning so that their lips were just a hair’s breadth apart, “unable to achieve one?”

 

Sherlock pulled her closer to him, his hand winding into her pony tail, and tilting her head back to expose her slender neck to him. His swelling cock pressed hotly against the apex of her thighs, “No, Dr Hooper, nothing so pedestrian.”

 

“Perhaps a priapism then? Did you take something, a stimulant of some sort, and now it won’t…go away?”

 

Eyelashes fluttering against her cheek as Sherlock pressed his lips to hers in a chaste, yet tantalising, kiss. _Oh, how he loved to torment her_.

 

“Not quite, but almost,” he whispered against her lips, “I seem to be unable to achieve orgasm.”

 

“That’s, um, quite inconvenient I would imagine,” her hand slid under his coat to sweep softly over the perfect swell of his luscious backside, her finger tips tracing the back seam of his impossibly tight trousers down his cleft. “There are two possibilities. This could be psychological or physiological,” Molly purred, as she tilted her head to allow Sherlock to trail sensuous kisses along her jaw. “I think it only prudent that I examine you, just to make sure that we can rule out any undiagnosed conditions.” When she angled her head to look at him, she could see the rapid beat of his heart pulsing in the long, elegant column of his throat.

 

“Yes Doctor,” he husked, want barely contained, “my body is yours to do with as you wish.”

 

Hands resting against his chest, she gently guided him backward, “Examination room three on the second floor, go there and wait for me Mr Holmes,” she watched him lasciviously as he instantly complied with her instruction, leaving Molly to prepare.

 

 

*****

 

 

Giddy with nervous energy and anticipation, Sherlock stood obediently in the centre of the dimly lit, sparsely furnished, examination room. An examination table, a stool and an instrument tray - already stocked with the supplies that Molly would need – were the only things visible in the muted circle of light that shone from a single spot lamp, casting a soft glow over the room.

 

He’d complied with the unspoken instruction to stay fully dressed; Molly, he knew, liked to watch, she enjoyed his body and the shows that he puts on for just for her. The thought made his heart pound in his ears, blood rushing to his head and his cock.

 

When she entered the room just a few minutes after him, she looked feral and breathtakingly beautiful, her usually gentle face transformed by lust. The hair that had been held in a pony-tail now loose and flowing around her shoulders, tousled and achingly gorgeous; she’d taken out her contacts and wore her dark rimmed glasses. Her lab coat was different too, shorter, fitted and tight, showing off her breasts and stocking clad legs; she wore heels and, from what he could see, very little else apart from pink lipstick and Chanel No. 19.

 

In that moment he felt like his heart would burst with joy; she did this just for him, the only man on Earth who was allowed to see her this way. Everything that she was or ever will be was his. The love he felt for her so vast, so immense, he could scarcely believe that he had been given this wonderful gift by the only woman he had ever loved; that she loved him too was a miracle beyond comprehension to him. Pride overwhelmed him; this extraordinary woman was his.

 

Sitting down, she crossed her shapely legs, the hem of her coat rising up to give the briefest glimpse of black lace panties that matched the bra showing under the deep vee of the coat’s neckline. After what felt like an eternity, Molly finally issued an instruction, “Strip,” her voice commanding yet paradoxically syrupy sweet, undisguised delight evident in her every lustful breath.

 

Taking his time, Sherlock teased her, his body already betraying just how _turned on_ by her he was as his cock swelled; watching as her flirtatious pink-lipped smile broadened when he pulled the scarf from his neck and slipped his coat and jacket from his broad shoulders, letting them pool on the floor at his feet. Fingers danced from button to button, revealing him to her slowly. Wide, hazel eyes watched fervently as he pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoned his cuffs; his firm, pale body a visual feast. There was usually an efficiency to the way he did this, care taken in the way he removed his worn clothing. But not this time. This time his every breath and action was just for her.

 

Just a few long strides and he stood before her, pulling his arms free of the quickly discarded shirt, her blunt fingernails scratching lightly down his chest, causing Sherlock to groan in unrestrained ecstasy when she brushed against his clothed erection with the back of her fingers, her knuckles, as her hands fell away from his body.

 

“Take off everything, Mr Holmes,” she cooed, devouring the sight of his bare torso, “if you still require an examination?”

 

Hands shaking with arousal and adrenalin, he carried out the last of her instructions, obediently and willingly, excited by what would come next. Shoes and socks removed first, before unzipping his trousers and letting them rest at mid-thigh to reveal his fat cock, curving against his hip. No underwear, just a glimpse of dark pubic hair, inviting her to look.

 

When Molly raised her eyes to meet his, he cast aside the last of his clothing and stood before her, his lean body naked, blushing with excitement, exposed and offering himself to her; his grey eyes sparkling, his lips curving into a gentle and loving smile.

 

“We’ll start with you kneeling. On all fours if you prefer,” she put her hand on his lower back and guided him to the table, the heat of her palm against his bare skin causing the hairs on his neck and the back of his arms to stand on end, her touch charged with electricity. “Legs spread Mr Holmes, so that I can examine you.”

 

Gracefully and more elegantly than should have been possible, he climbed onto the table, positioning his legs beneath himself in one deft motion, coming to rest as his beautiful doctor had suggested on all fours, his head hanging low beneath his strong shoulders, his thick, heavy cock standing proud of his toned body. Submitting to her ministrations, goose bumps breaking out on his heated flesh in anticipation, from just the thought of giving himself to her.

 

Slipping a hand beneath him, between his legs, Molly smiled at his gasping moan. Stroking his erection once, before taking her hand away.

 

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing, focusing on the carnality of her power over him and the pleasure she was about to bring. 

 

There was a snap of latex gloves and the certain knowledge that the small noise he heard was lubricant coating her gloved fingers.

 

“I’m going to touch you now Sherlock,” a delicate, slicked finger slid down the cleft of his arse, parting his cheeks and stopping at the tight ring of muscle around his puckered hole.  Positioned behind him, Sherlock felt her breath on the small of his back as she bent to kiss him there, love and lust blending into one. Sighing softly, he allowed himself to enjoy the way she stroked him.

 

“Try to relax,” she said as his knuckles turned white grasping the topmost edge of the table desperately. Circling her finger, gently easing the muscle open, before pushing in.

 

Quick breaths were followed by a long exhaled ‘ _ahhhh_ ’ when she breached him. Delicate and precise, Molly’s slicked finger working him open, sliding with delicious pressure, caressing the sensitive, velvety, walls within. “You’re doing so well, my darling boy,” her voice low, intimate, as her finger began to rhythmically thrust; shallow, careful, in and out.

 

Heat already pooling low in his belly, pleasure coiled and twisted at the base of his spine. Just the thought of what she was doing to him, fucking him with her finger, was almost enough to make him come.

 

Slowly, he opened for her, his body relaxing. Tight, hot and so full; every stroke made Sherlock want to moan and beg and plead for more. Adding a second, Molly crooked her fingers searching for the small gland. When she found it, his hips bucked involuntarily and he groaned obscenely.

 

“Ah,” her voice like satin, intimate and intense, “Good.”

 

With practiced ease, Molly’s fingers rubbed in a circular motion across Sherlock’s prostate until he was a writhing mess; skin glowing from exertion, back bowed, soft curls damp and dishevelled. He was almost undone. Almost.

 

A wanton and filthy smile graced her lips; pleased that she was going to surprise him with something he hadn’t asked for or deduced, even though she’d known it was something he’d wanted. Steadying his hip with her free hand, Molly gently removed her fingers from his no longer virgin hole, asking, “Do you trust me?”

 

Curious, his head turned to look, but her face was unreadable. It made no difference; there could only ever be one truthful answer to that question.

 

“Yes,” gasping with need, “God, yes. Do whatever you want to me.”

 

“Oh, Sherlock,” her tone darkly playful and dripping with sinful intent, “you really shouldn’t say such things. You have no idea of the filthy, disgusting things I want to do to you.”

 

Drawing the object from her pocket, she placed it at his waiting entrance, the cold metal against his skin causing him to shiver; he gasped in air as Molly slid the plug inside, his body yielding to the intrusion.

 

So much more than her fingers, she gave him time to adjust before turning the vibration on to its lowest setting. The sensation as the heavy plug rested on his prostate, unexpectedly sensual, causing starbursts to ignite behind his eyelids when the low hum began, his arousal building.

 

It was excruciatingly good, but not nearly enough.

 

“Molly,” he begged, without really knowing what for, “Please. I want you.”

 

“Not yet, my love,” she soothed, as her gloves were removed, applying lubricant to her hands to warm it, “Your prostate appears to be fine, but I’ll need to examine your penis to make sure there are no abnormalities.” Her hands gently pushed between his legs, cupping and massaging his balls in one hand, she took his hard length in the other, as Sherlock experimentally pumped into the slick channel created by her fingers wrapped around him.  

 

“How does it feel?”

 

“Nice. Good,” his breath catching in his chest, his eyes closed, wallowing in sensation.

 

“Just nice? Well that won’t do,” a curved palm and fingers offered languid and sultry caresses.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he moaned when her grip on him tightened; she was massaging him from the cleft of his backside to his peritoneum, around the base of his penis and all the way back again. Knowledgeable and capable hands roamed everywhere, causing his breathing to come harder, faster – he gasped and panted with every longed for touch. Putty in her hands, his cock, swollen and heavy, throbbed at her caress, pre-come leaking from its tip. Molly’s clever hand stroked, long and slow, all the way from the base to the tip; light fingers swirling over the head on every pass, as the other continued its explorative journey. His desire for release warring with the yearning to make this last as long as he could.

 

“Molly I’ll come,” he said almost urgently, as she firmly thumbed the frenulum, his testicles tightening beneath her hands.

 

“That was rather the point, Sherlock,” the smirk on her lips clear in her voice, as she continued to bring him closer to completion.

 

“I know, but please, not yet,” he begged in a choked voice, his breathing only relaxing when her hand stilled.

 

Gently, and oh so lovingly, Molly rested her hands on his back, directing him to lie down on the table.

 

Careful not to disturb the plug, he rolled onto his back and sighed; his legs falling open, his arms crossed loosely at the wrist above his head.

 

“Well, certainly you don’t seem to have a problem gaining or maintaining an erection, do you?” Molly’s hands glided softly along his thighs, across his hips and over the flat muscular planes of his stomach.

 

“No, Dr Hooper,” he grinned, turning his head to look at her as she stood next to him, her fingers making a last journey back down his body to brush against his cock, sucking in a deep breath when she adjusted the setting for the toy in his arse to provide more stimulation.

 

“Do you touch yourself, Sherlock?” Unbuttoning her lab coat and dropping it onto the floor, finally letting him see the sheer black underwear she’d kept hidden, Molly climbed onto the table straddling his thighs.

 

Closing his eyes, his cheeks turned a stunning shade of crimson, framed by his beautiful inky curls, “Yes, Doctor.”

 

“Show me how good it feels, show me how you like it. I want to know what you do when you think nobody can see. I want to know all your dirty little secrets, Sherlock, spread your legs and let me look,” the proximity of his body to hers making her wet, her breath warm against his cock as she leaned over to kiss the tip softly, a barely there brush of lips, her hands drifting over his abdominal muscles on their way to massage his pectorals, teasing his sensitive buds lightly with her blunt nails.

 

Lowering his hand, his fingers tangled in her hair, and as she raised her head Sherlock’s hand fell to his lap, his thighs parting. Starting to palm his hard erection, a harsh cry echoed in the room when her hand joined his, their fingers threaded together. Canting his hips toward her, he wrapped his long, elegant fingers around himself; slowly pumping in and out of their joined hands, while with his other he cupped and rolled his balls softly.

 

“You know,” Molly’s tone low and seductive, “the imagination is an erogenous zone. Tell me what you fantasise about, my beautiful boy.”

 

“This,” his swallow rough, “you owning me, marking me, making me your property. I want you to possess me. I dream about you taking me, wanting me, my body, everything,” then almost shyly, “I dream about you loving me.”

 

“ _Christ_ ,” she breathed against him full of desire, her hair brushing against his pelvis and hips as she lowered her lips to him once more, fingertips skimming against his stretched hole to caress the vibrating toy between his cheeks. Waves of pleasure wracked his body, her lips, like cocaine, addictive, a drug he craved; her teeth nipping his thighs hard enough to leave love bites, bright shards of pain dissolving into glorious want.

 

Looking down the length of his body, he moaned, raw and needy, at the sight of her lips wrapping themselves around his cock; her face half in shadow, half in muted light. Stretched obscenely, pink lips took him deeper. He felt the glans hit the back of her throat, just as the plug came to rest on his prostate once again, a hint of teeth bringing him to the edge.

 

The sight almost too much for him, “ _Oh God, your mouth_ ,” Sherlock panted, followed by a guttural moan when the perfect and pleasing weight of her soft breasts came to rest on his naked upper thighs. Unable to contain himself any longer his clever fingers pinched the clasp of her bra, freeing the sumptuous flesh beneath, slipping his hand beneath the black lace, he pinched and fondled her taut, peaked nipple; his palm petting the yielding swell of her breast. The soft press of his lover’s body against his unbearably good as he ran his free hand across the pale expanse of Molly’s back and shoulders, skin to skin, and then wound through her hair.

 

Pulling off with a long slide of her tongue against the underside of his cock, her lips suckling the tip before lifting her head to scold him.

 

“Ah-ah-ah, Darling,” she said smiling; sitting back on his thighs she let her bra fall down her arms to reveal dusky, erect nipples, “you know that isn’t how it works. The doctor is in charge, remember?” her hands drifting across her own body as she spoke; his eyes greedily following every movement.

 

“Yes, Doctor,” came the reply from the gorgeous man beneath her.

 

“Good,” her smile both predatory and impish, she stepped back onto the floor, moving to stand at the top of the table above his head, “but perhaps I should show you some kindness, help you control yourself a little better.” Molly’s hands ghosted across his strong shoulders, and grasping his arms firmly pulled them over his head. Raising his palms to her lips, she kissed him gently then slipped the medical restraints around his wrists, securing his arms behind his head.

 

“Molly? What-what are you-?”

 

“Shush my pretty Darling, be still,” her brown eyes twinkling as she mischievously mocked, “it’s an experiment.”

 

Sherlock shuddered and let out a low moan when his doctor’s hands skimmed the length of the inside of his arms to glide across his chest, rolling and pinching his flattened nipples, “There we are,” she smiled, “that should help you behave.”

 

As she walked away, Molly’s fingers slipped into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, then tugged, causing his neck to arch at the flare of heat her touch inspired. “Good boy,” warm lips pressed against his neck in a tender kiss, her teeth scraping over his pulse.

 

Untying the ribbons at either hip, the sheer black panties that had been stretched across her curves fell away from the swell of her backside, fluttering to the floor, she once more straddled her patient. Leaning forward, her nipples brushed against his chest, her slick core pressed to his velvety, engorged cock, her fingers sank into his curls and her lips hovered over his, tantalisingly close.

 

“Mr Holmes,” she breathed onto his plush lips, “your prostate is healthy, you respond to manual and oral stimulation, and you appear to enjoy being aroused anally,” licking a stripe along his neck, she circled the shell of his ear with her tongue, “there’s only one other thing I can think to try.” With her mouth damp against his ear, she whispered intimately, “I think I should fuck you.”

 

A contraction of his chest drove his body up to meet hers, reaching for her, he was held back by his bonds, his eyes were hooded, his body flushed with want as the plug continued its assault on his prostate. Needy and pliant he begged, “Kiss me. Please Molly, kiss me.”

 

Nipping his earlobe, Molly buried her nose in his hair, “You’re so beautiful like this, Sherlock. I love hearing you beg for me,” her tender lips finding his at last to take a deep and passionate kiss. Their tongues caressing, exploring. The kiss brutal and exquisite.

 

Warm and delicious pressure coiled low in his pelvis when Molly slid her slick channel along the length of his aching cock and kissed her way down his body, derailing his already impaired mind; the thick haze of arousal overwhelming every rational thought as he rolled his hips up to shamelessly grind himself against her, Molly writhing against his cock wantonly. Bodily constraint finally freeing his mind from the control of his intellect.

 

The decadent kisses to his body stopped abruptly when she rose up on her knees, taking his impossibly hard cock in hand again, her thumb sweeping over the weeping slit. Sherlock moaned and pulled at his restraints, the resulting arch of his back driving the plug deeper into his body. Tiny beads of sweat broke out over the perfect Cupid’s bow of his insanely lush lips.

 

“More,” he begged as she leaned forward, her lips on one hard nipple, breasts pressed to his fevered flesh; the gentle weight of her holding him down.

 

He craved her. He _ached_ for her.

 

“I want to – to be inside you,” her body like rain on the desert of his soul; need, visceral and sharp, coursing through him.

 

Wet and slick against him, Molly positioned the head of his cock against her clit, groaning wildly as she circled the hard pearl with the crimson, swollen head. Her breathing becoming rapid and irregular as she rhythmically thrust against him, revelling in the sensation.

 

Constant murmurs of adoration, pleas to deity’s, became louder, breathier, when Molly threw her head back and wailed as she took his cock into her body just as her orgasm struck, fluttering and clenching around him. Back arched, her pert breasts bounced as she rode out her climax on his thick cock – rigid and hard inside her - her lean and lithe body undulating violently above and around him, effervescent pleasure coursing through her veins. The sight of Molly fucking herself on his cock, taking pleasure from his body, indescribably beautiful to him.

 

A primal urge to just _rut_ into her, to _fuck_ her tight cunt, to satisfy the throbbing need in his groin was only just contained. When Molly took his lips in a searing kiss, he groaned ‘ _Please’_ into her mouth, and without asking for what, she pulled his wrists free of the leather straps that held his arms above his head, secured to the table, tenderly rubbing his freed arms.

 

One arm wrapped possessively around her back, as his other hand grasped for her soft backside, pushing her down onto his cock. Molly trailed bruising kisses along his collarbone, the hollow of his throat and neck as he pumped into her, guiding her delicate body to take him deeper and deeper.

 

He took her hard and fast, the sounds of damp flesh slapping against damp flesh filling the air; nothing existed in that moment except the woman he was inside. Finally finding his release as Molly’s warm and compassionate eyes met his, “I love you,” she whispered as he jerked then stilled, hot semen spilling deep inside her, fireworks igniting behind his closed eyelids, her words more sensual and erotic to him than any lovers touch had ever been. A gentle and awed expulsion of breath carried her name from his lips.

 

Her light and brightness engulfed him as he came down from the heights she had raised him to. His body tingling, warmth spreading through his chest, his love for her making his heart ache.

 

Molly, stunningly beautiful in the afterglow of their love making.

 

“I love you too,” he said, his voice soft, as he pulled her down on top of him, their damp bodies pressed together, their breathless mouths touching in an almost kiss; his hands caressing the planes of her slender back, his heart still hammering against her breast, savouring the weight of her body resting on his. Molly reached between their bodies to gently remove the toy from his backside.

 

Lips brushed over his throat, as she mumbled, tired but content, “I wish you could tell the real me that you love her.”

 

“I know,” he told the Molly who lived nightly only in his dreams, “but what good would it do?” he asked, “I could never make her happy, I could never be what she needs.” Sherlock scrubbed a hand over his face, “Besides, I’d rather ensure her happiness than my own. I should walk away. Leave her.”

 

The only sound was the imagined beating of Molly’s heart, the pad of his thumb on her ghost of a pulse, “I notice you’re not objecting.”

 

“I’m hardly likely to, Sherlock, I am you after all,” she whispered as tiny kisses peppered his skin, “the real Molly would though. And besides, if you could walk away, you would have done it by now,” the voice in his fantasy concerned and tender, a simulation of the real thing, “She loves you, you know.”

 

He touched the visions face, the illusion of a woman who had always been a candle in his darkness; she was the unwitting centre around which his very existence revolved. Tipping her head back he kissed her nose, then her eyelids, his voice melancholy as he said, “I know that too.”

 

Cupping his face, the vision whispered, “Then have faith in her, have faith in her understanding. You’ve trusted her with your life, be brave, trust her with your heart. Please, my darling, don’t give up on us.”

 

Frustrated, he sighed, “I’m living a nightmare. I despise myself for wanting something so fucking goddamn unattainable from a woman that I can never be good enough for.”

 

“Not a nightmare my Darling,” he heard her say sadly as Molly’s apparition dissolved and faded away, only the distant echo of her voice remaining, “just a dream.”

 

 

*****

 

 

“Sherlock?” soothing fingers raked through his hair and over his damp brow.

 

Groaning, he turned his head to look toward the soft voice. Disoriented, he mumbled, his voice rough, “What time is it?”

 

“Two a.m.,” he’d fallen asleep at her desk whilst pouring over the Dickenson file, and now every muscle in his back and neck ached and screamed from the awkward angle, “there’s an on call room two doors down, why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll wake you when the results of the blood tests come back, hmm?”

 

Her doe like, gold flecked eyes watched him, concerned and sympathetic as she lovingly stroked his hair, an imitation of the intimacy he had imagined only moments before; the thought leaving him feeling bereft and hollow, his heart pained because she wasn’t his.

 

“Perhaps, yes,” Sherlock stretched and rolled his shoulders, he rose unsteadily to his feet, knowing he should leave before he did something unforgivable like confess his feelings to her, afraid that if he were to kiss her he would never be able to stop. “Thank you,” he said as he pulled on his coat, shoving his scarf into the right hand pocket before turning to leave.

 

His fingers were on the door handle when she asked from just a few steps behind, “Are you alright?” he startled her by turning sharply, “I’m sorry, it’s just you seemed agitated just before you woke, um, sorry,” she shook her head dismissing the idea, “look, if there’s anything you want…”

_You_ , he thought, _I want you_.

 

Sherlock closed the space between them, a moth caught in the glow of her flame. Putting his hands on her shoulders, turning around to back her against the wall, wrapping himself around her, possessive and desperate. The futility of his denial obvious, the pain it caused them both plain to see. Exhausted, his emotions running high, he finally succumbed, at last setting free the secret he’d guarded from her.

 

Their bodies pressed together, Sherlock dipped his head to whisper plaintively in her ear, “I can’t get you out of my head, Molly, I don’t want to get you out. Do you-Do you still-”

 

His mind racing, he drew a trembling breath, “Ask me what I need.”

 

“Sherlock…?” her breath ghosting softly on his skin, her heart pounding.

 

Realisation hitting him that she was just as afraid as he was of the unknown. Quietly, insistently, his words filled the dark places between them, “Ask me what I need.”

 

Molly’s breathing hitched, her throat narrowing, her heart beating wildly in her chest, she asked barely a whisper, “What do you need?”

 

“You,” he said, his voice rich and deep as his lips brushed against hers. Anticipation, fear, happiness made his heart beat strongly in his chest, sending waves of apprehension through his body; his hands sinking into her hair as she smiled, her eyes shining and joyful and full of endless love, “it will always be you, it’s only ever been you, Dr Hooper.”

 

Molly pulled him down to meet her soft and tempting lips in an achingly tender kiss so unlike any he had ever experienced before. Sherlock, surrendering into her arms had only one last coherent thought before he gave his body and mind irrevocably to the woman he loved; _how much better the reality of her was than his fantasy._


End file.
